Sherliton's Army
by Len
Summary: Willow/Spike: There's a new baddie in town, and our heroes are finding the whole experience rather...draining. Please oh please R&R!!
1. Like The Thing That Lives Behind The Was...

Sherliton's Army  
  
By Len  
  
Rating: R – Spike and his dirty mouth!  
  
Spoilers: `Gone' – it pretty much branches off into AU at that point.  
  
Teaser: The latest Nasty is only the beginning…the situation is very  
  
draining for two of the gang.  
  
Note: there is a certain element of dark humor in this piece, mainly  
  
because I can't write drama or angst to save my life. Clichés  
  
abound, Evil Critters are borrowed, plot weaves like a drunken man,  
  
names are silly…you know, the usual. Have fun.  
  
Archive: My site – Blood Magic (http://www.geocities.com/voodoo_bloodmagic/enter.html) to Chelsea's marvelous site, Breathe, and to anybody else who'd like it. Just let me know so I can visit. Or gloat. Same diff.  
  
More Notes: Takes place in the same universe as my two short  
  
conversation pieces `Confusion, Confessions' and `The Beginning', and  
  
after these two stories. Sorry about the introspective mumbling at  
  
the beginning. It'll get better, I promise.  
  
Also: WILL FIC FOR FEEDBACK!!!  
  
  
  
Part One  
  
She strode down the street, long jacket flapping out behind her, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in her stomach. It had been a month, and she was beginning to realize that she was probably going to have to live with this urge for the rest of her life. 'However long that'll be,' she thought cynically. Without her magic, Willow felt as defenseless as a baby, and she hated it.  
  
But there was no way she was going to risk hurting those she loved again. She would have to get used to being plain old Willow again. "I'm right back to where I started," she muttered in surprise, pausing on the darkened street for a moment. "Buffy's back as the slayer, I'm a alone, Xander's getting married…well, okay, *that's* new…"  
  
There was also the bizarre revelation of Buffy and Spike's relationship. It had been obvious for some time that something was wrong – he and Buffy had come back a little worse for wear that night after killing a big demon, and Buffy brushed past him into the Magic Box. Then she slammed the door in his face. Granted, the Scooby Gang didn't always use their best manners around the English vampire, but this was surprisingly rude even for Buffy, and it had been the last straw for Spike.  
  
The worst part of it all was there wasn't any side Willow could take on the matter. Since that night, she and Spike had resumed their old habit of guarding the Summer's house for demons, under the pretense of star- watching, and she'd try to cheer him up. It was working a little. Buffy wasn't helping matter any – she hated the vamp for being her weakness, and hated him for being the one to break it off before they both really got hurt. That's what Willow was guessing, anyway. To date, Buffy hadn't confided in her about her affair with Spike. It was like they were only friends for appearance's sake.  
  
In reality, Spike was the one Buffy turned to when she was pulled out of Heaven, just like he was the one she turned to to look after Dawn. Willow couldn't fault her for that. Spike was the most nonjudgmental person…er…demon she'd ever met. And it wasn't like Buffy could have told any on the Scoobies the truth about….anything without there being some major freakage.  
  
Willow sighed. Somewhere along the line, they had all grown up and to an extent, apart. Their roles had changed. Giles had left, their enemy was now their ally, and Xander had gone from being Comedy-Relief Boy into a serious young man who was the home base to the entire group. Whodda thunk?  
  
A noise behind her suddenly caught her attention, playing along her already taught nerves like a violin bow. It was only the sound of leaves rustling, but twenty-one years on the Hellmouth had taught her not to ignore her instincts. So she stepped up her pace until she was running.  
  
The noise followed her, now accompanied by a low growl.  
  
Willow was now sprinting, but had a sick feeling that it wasn't fast enough. Just a little further, she thought – she could see the storefront of the Magic Box…  
  
Her pursuer hit her across the shoulders and she went down headfirst into the pavement. Instead of knocking her unconscious, it merely served to stun her into passivity. A foot then connected with her ribs, rolling her over. She gasped for breath.  
  
And then Willow got a good look at her attacker. Her brain decided abruptly to take a break coffee break, and her world plunged into darkness.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
The next thing she was aware of was someone slapping her face – and not gently, either. Blearily, she cracked open her eyes. "Anya?"  
  
"Shhh! Hurry, we have to get out of here. That monster is beating up my fiancé!"  
  
She helped Willow up into a sitting position and then cringed as the…the *thing* threw out an arm and caught Xander across the chest. They both heard the air being forced out his lungs, and he slammed against the brick wall of a building.  
  
"Okay," Willow said, trying not to cry out at the pain in her side. "Running away would be good. Running…ow…ow…"  
  
"Yes. Running. Running. Xander. Why isn't Xander moving?" Anya asked, ending in a screech. She dropped Willow and ran over to him, completely ignoring the hideous demon that swung at her as she did so. The Wiccan was left to her own devices.  
  
The demon also realized this, and it's head swiveled to meet her gaze. She gulped and scrambled painfully to her feet. And then out of nowhere, a dark figure lept out of the shadows and into the fray. His platinum hair reflected the streetlight. Spike. Willow raised her eyes to the heavens and offered a brief prayer of thanks to whoever was listening.  
  
The monster – or demon, or whatever it was – was a black and scaly with long, curving claws. And way, way too many eyes. It slashed at Spike, who managed to dodge the worst of it, although judging from his hiss of pain it had connected with something. He countered by kicking the feet out from under it. It was up again quicker than she could blink.  
  
Willow bit her lip and straightened, looking frantically for something to use as a weapon. She could feel the power in her begging for release, but she quickly squelched the urge. Instead, she picked up a glass wine bottle sitting on the curb, and crept up behind the thing.  
  
"Stupid bloody spider! Is that the best you got? Huh?" Spike taunted. Blood dripped from his fingertips and he seemed to be favoring his right leg. "Huh? C'mon, let's see what you got!"  
  
Willow smashed the bottle over its head. It staggered, creating an opening for Spike. The vampire ran at it like a Quarterback, taking it down to the ground.  
  
Or at least, that's what he had intended. In reality, the monster simply looked down at the vampire that held his torso in a lock with something akin to amusement. Then he grabbed Willow by the hair, plucked Spike off by the neck, and banged their heads together. They bounced off each other and fell in opposite directions. The monster wriggled its mandibles before retreating to the darkness, twittering maniacally.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
"Augh…..ow…."  
  
"Bloody…fucking…hell…." Spike groaned off, and then realized that the pain in his head was too great to engage in further gratuitous swearing. Willow had reached a similar conclusion, and decided to just lie there for a minute until the shops along the street stopped swirling around her.  
  
"Wills? Spike?" a wheezy sounding Xander asked. Willow didn't move her head. From this angle, she could just make out Orion in the night sky…  
  
"What *was* that thing?" Anya asked, "It looked like one of those horrible little things that used to live behind the washer in Xander's basement."  
  
"I think it's definitely time to hit the books. Let's go back to the Magic Box…Willow? You okay? Say something!"  
  
"Nnngahh…" she managed.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
"What she said," he groaned. Then he remembered that this had only been one pathetic monster, and he was a Master Vampire. He also noticed that the whelp and his girl were looking at him with concern. His pride immediately pushed him to his feet. "Need some weapons. Or some bug spray," he quipped, fighting the urge to sway on his feet. "Red? C'mon, let's get the hell outta here before he comes back for round two."  
  
"I hear ya," Xander agreed. Anya just nodded and wrapped an arm around his waist to guide him to the magic shop.  
  
Spike stayed behind, watching his unlikely confidant get to her feet. She made no attempt to hide her swaying. "You alright, Will?" he asked.  
  
She turned to look at him. "Yeah. I'm just…what the heck was that thing? I hurt all over…"  
  
Spike swallowed hard. There, running down what was quite frankly the most delectable neck he'd ever laid eyes on, were dark rivulets of blood. Oddly enough, it wasn't out of hunger that he gulped, but out of the realization that whatever had caused that blood to come to the surface must've hurt her. Badly.  
  
From the end of the street came the sound of a tin can being kicked, and it was enough to spur her to action. Willow nearly ran the seven feet to Spike, looped an arm around his weakened right side, and hurried down the sidewalk. Spike was oddly grateful for the support, even though it was obvious that Willow was leaning on him as much as she was holding him up.  
  
The pair stumbled into the Magic Shop stood there, gasping. Or Willow gasped; Spike rubbed his temple and tried to ignore the ringing in his brain. Bloody chip…or something.  
  
"Wow," Dawn said from her perch on the counter. "What happened to you guys? Oh – Willow! Spike! You're bleeding!"  
  
She jumped off and disappeared into the back room, presumably for first aid supplies. Meanwhile, a subdued Buffy slipped around them, staying as far away from Spike as possible, to turn the deadbolts on the shop door. "What attacked you?" she asked Xander.  
  
"Oh, Buffy – it was horrible! It—"  
  
"It looked like those things that used to live behind the washer in Xander's basement," Anya supplied matter-of-factly. Buffy looked blank for a moment, and then remembered what the ex-demon was talking about. She grimaced.  
  
"Oh, ew! You're saying you were attacked by a giant—"  
  
"No, Buffy," Willow interrupted. The ringing in her head was getting worse. She just wanted to get this over with and go lie down… "It had two legs, not six. Or, two legs and two arms. Or maybe it really was four legs, only one set worked as arms…"  
  
"It had four limbs, pet. Leave it at that, eh?" Spike muttered, and shifted a little until he was leaning against Willow's back. Gods Below, he was tired. And Willow's toasty body heat wasn't making it any easier to stay awake…  
  
"Why don't you sit down before you fall down, you two?" Dawn asked, reappearing with a large blue tin. She set it on the back table, and waited for the bleeding pair to drag themselves to the chairs.  
  
Buffy started to pace. "So…what you're saying is that you were attacked by a giant bugman? Ick. Does it seem to anyone else that demons are getting grosser and grosser?"  
  
"Not only that, but it didn't even kill us. Spike and I were both pretty much helpless after he whacked us together," Willow commented, yawning. The demon in Spike objected to being called helpless, but he really couldn't be bothered growling. He slid down in his chair and closed his eyes.  
  
"Yeah, we were all pretty out of it – it could have come after any of us. But it didn't," Xander added.  
  
"But why come after any of us?" Buffy asked. "Even the stupidest demons generally need a reason to attack a person who fights back."  
  
Anya sighed and mopped up a few drops of blood from the floor under Spike's dangling hand. She liked her shop neat and tidy. Blood stains scared the customers. "It was chasing Willow when we saw it. I thought she was just really happy to be going to the shop, but then she fell over and it started kicking her."  
  
Buffy stopped and thought for a moment. "It was after Will? It was big and scary?"  
  
Xander caught where Buffy was going with her train of thought before she could continue. "She hasn't been using magic again, Buff. You know she hasn't."  
  
"Then what the hell was that thing?" she wondered aloud. She looked over to where Spike sat, snoring for some odd reason, and felt the familiar combination of longing and revulsion. Her gaze continued on to Willow, and she opened her mouth to ask the redhead another question before she realized Willow, too, was asleep. Her head was pillowed on one arm, her mouth was slightly open. Classic Willow Study Session pose.  
  
Anya and Xander looked at the pair oddly. "Maybe we should focus more on 'What the hell did it do to Willow and Spike'?" Xander suggested.  
  
  
  
Meanwhile across town, a Wizard in a dilapidated warehouse was calling his army into being. 


	2. Frogs

Sherliton's Army, chapter two  
  
Notes: This is dedicated to Woody. Enjoy. I'll just run out and buy some marshmallows.  
  
Thanks to everyone at the fantastic Willow/Spike fanfic list - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/WillSpikeFic/  
  
For their wonderful encouragement and support. And fabulously entertaining fic. You guys rock.  
  
More notes: Just a quick chapter here. Keep in mind that I don't take this seriously. My readers shouldn't either. Trust me – it's more fun that way.  
  
  
  
  
  
Spike was dreaming. Not his usual Slayage-n-Shaggage dreams, either. Nor nightmarish flashbacks of Dru and Angelus. No. This was something truly terrifying. Something that nearly made his dead heart pound in fear.  
  
Spike was dreaming of frogs.  
  
Big, plump, green frogs on logs, Kermit the frog – even that animated frog from the WB made a brief appearance. Little tiny rainbow-colored tree frogs were swarming all over him; they dangled by a couple of suction- cupped toes from his clothes, sat in his hair, crawled up his face, and croaked in his ears. They were everywhere. It was horrifying. He stood stock still, too petrified to move, and some tiny part of his brain wondered when these small amphibians had become so repulsive to him.  
  
Willow also dreamed. At least, she thought it was a dream, but it seemed so real…and on the Hellmouth, who could be sure what was reality, anyway? All she knew for certain was that this wasn't any dream she'd had before.  
  
The land around her was blackened – singed by fire. The foundations of houses and building still smoked. Bodies of humans and demons alike littered the ground, and there wasn't a single living thing to be seen, or sensed. She was completely and utterly alone.  
  
Even worse was her legs. They wouldn't move, and she wanted so badly to run away from all this distruction. Goddess, it looked like the Hellmouth had been opened, or something.  
  
She found herself looking east towards the horizon, feeling an odd tingly feeling at the base of her neck that she knew meant the sun was about to rise. She couldn't hide from it, and suddenly she didn't want to. Smiling, Willow waited for oblivion.  
  
The sun came up, only to be blocked out by the rising clouds of smoke. She couldn't even see the light, much less turn herself to dust. "No…"she whispered brokenly.  
  
  
  
Meanwhile, the Slayer and the Slayerettes were standing around, watching with fascination as the non-breathing Spike continued to snore. "It must be some kind of spell," Xander said. "They're both out cold."  
  
Buffy nodded. "Or poison of some kind. Maybe there's something wiggy about that demon's skin. They both touched him."  
  
"But so did Xander. He's still awake and reasonably alert."  
  
"Thanks, An."  
  
Anya just smiled at him. She was finally getting the hang of humor.  
  
Dawn was worried. The redheaded witch was her role model – and although that status had taken a beating a few weeks ago, the strength with which Willow was dealing with her addiction was inspiring. She was like her big sister and favorite aunt all rolled into one. And it looked like something was after her. "Why would something want to hurt Willow?" she asked. "Willow hasn't done anything. It's not fair!"  
  
"I don't know Dawnie. We'll figure it out, don't worry."  
  
The teen nodded, and went back to trying to clean the two snoozing adults up. She took a damp wash cloth to Spike's face, trying to wash off the dried blood from the corner of his mouth. He stirred. "Don' warn the tadpoles…" he muttered, and then fell silent. Xander gaped at him for a minute, his mouth opening and closing without any sound. Finally he spoke. "I think it's time to hit the books."  
  
Buffy nodded, eyes wide.  
  
  
  
Arnold Percival Sherliton was not a person one would normally notice if they passed by him on the street. He was short, wiry, and seemed to possess a rather suspicious lack of identifying features. Most people did pass him by. Many of those people ran into him first. He was just so nondescript he faded into the sidewalk.  
  
This irked Arnold a great deal. He hadn't successfully made a name for himself in the software business only to be overlooked in social settings. He was rich. He was powerful. And damn it – he could have any girl he wanted!  
  
Unfortunately , none of the above statements were *exactly* true. Sherliton *was* wealthy compared to the average Sunnydale citizen, and *did* have the power over his own career – being his own boss had it's perks, of course – and he *could* have almost any girl he wanted, thanks to a little magick he'd been working on.  
  
But he didn't want any girl. He wanted _her_. She was gorgeous, with all that brilliant red hair and creamy skin and big hazel eyes. Arnold was completely and utterly smitten with the woman. And she, for some reason, had never given him the time of day.  
  
Arnold frowned, mixing a variety of smelly herbs into a large crystal bowl. A pentangle of black candles surrounded him, and a large red one sat next to his workstation. *This* would get her attention. He knew it would. The girl had the biggest heart in the world – you could see it in her eyes. All he'd have to do was gain complete control of everything in this creepy little town, bring it to it's knees, and then offer it all to his sweetheart. Arnie watched the talk shows – he knew what women wanted, and he'd give it to her. In fact, he'd better start practicing now – he could just imagine the loving tear slipping down her face as he spoke, the way she'd touch his face…. What was his line, again? Oh. Right. "My darling. My one true love. Your beauty outshines the sun. Your purity blinds me. I'm helpless before you. Only you can take this hardened heart and change it. Only with your love can I divert from my life of crime to a future of good…"  
  
A group of newly called demons congregated in one corner of the warehouse, chatting in their native language about the outcome of the previous night's Game. The game in question was one similar to American football, but happens to be utterly unpronounceable in English. When their new boss' voice rang out, they paused, hoping they were about to get some action. They'd been waiting for friggin' *ever*.  
  
Instead, he was just rehearsing that speech again. The demons didn't have the firmest grasp of the Human languages yet, but that didn't mean they lacked some degree of taste. They snickered.  
  
This shook Arnold out of his dreamy recitation and the bowl in front of him shattered. Several candles also went out. "Damn it!" he hollered. "I thought I told you – no noise! You guys are throwing me out of my groove! Now I've got to start this crap all over again!"  
  
The demons quieted immediately, foreseeing the beginning of a loooong night. Arnie smirked at the command he held over them, and then turned to the creature on his right. "Dave – you wanna give me a hand cleaning this up? I just don't believe those guys – I pay them well, but do they listen to me? Noooo…" the short man trailed off, mumbling curses. His black scaly companion wriggled its mandibles and started sweeping up glass with its claws.  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
(to everyone's dread! Evil laugh, cackle, cackle, etc…) 


	3. Sid - Tanned and Ticked

Sherliton's Army 3/?  
  
By Len  
  
Rating: R – Spike and his dirty mouth!  
  
Spoilers: 'Gone' – it pretty much branches off into AU at that point.  
  
Teaser: Just when you think things can't possibly get weirder than the Creature Who Looks Like The Things That Lived Behind The Washer In Xander's Basement, it surpasses itself. This part: The Powers That Be enter the story, and suddenly everything in B:tVS since season 4 makes a certain degree of sense to W/Sers everywhere.  
  
Note: I can't write drama or angst to save my life. This is the result of me attempting to keep my head from exploding in the pre-finals season. Clichés abound, Evil Critters are borrowed from Sigourney Weaver movies, plot weaves like a drunken man, names are silly…you know, the usual. Have fun.  
  
Archive: Find all previous parts at my site – Blood Magic:  
  
( http://www.geocities.com/voodoo_bloodmagic/enter.html ), NHA, FF.net and Chelsea's marvelous site, Breathe. If anyone else wants it, just let me know so I can visit. Or gloat. Same diff.  
  
More Notes: Takes place in the same universe as my two short conversation pieces 'Confusion, Confessions' and 'The Beginning', and after these two stories.  
  
Also: WILL FIC FOR FEEDBACK!!!  
  
  
  
Part Three  
  
  
  
Xander sat with his nose in a book, turning pages with one hand, his other holding the hand of his fiancée. Anya did the same, but nearly jumped out of her skin when the redhead next to her sat up as suddenly as if she had been shocked. Across the table, Spike shot up as well, and fell out of his chair.  
  
"Ow. Bloody Hell…" he muttered from the floor.  
  
Willow yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Sorry about that. I must've drifted off. What are we doing?"  
  
"Research," Buffy answered. "There's something weird going on."  
  
"In good ol' Sunnyhell? What're the odds?" Spike muttered. Willow ignored him, cocking her head to one side. "Oh. That demon? You know, I think I may have seen it somewhere before…maybe in…no. It wasn't in the watcher's diaries…or was it?"  
  
"Actually, Wills," Xander interrupted. "We're trying to figure out why Fix-a-Dent over there was dreaming about frogs."  
  
"Frogs?" Willow asked weakly. She shivered. Spike, who was getting to his feet, sneered at him.  
  
"Now why in Hell would I be dreaming of frogs? I don't dream of frogs. Demons don't dream of frogs. I'd much rather dream of—" he caught Dawn's eye, who was listening interestedly, and trailed off. "—other things," he finished. "Anyhow, why the hell should you care about what I'm dreaming about?"  
  
"Willow."  
  
Spike blinked and set his jaw. "I haven't been dreaming about Willow."  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes and started pacing again. "Wills – what's your greatest fear?"  
  
"Um…dying?"  
  
"Other than that."  
  
"Oh! Frogs! Especially the really fat green ones that come out after a rain and then get run over by cars and flattened, but they don't die – they just sort of peel themselves off the street like a cartoon and jump onto your leg while you're walking—" in her agitation, Willow had reverted back to her old babbling habit. "—and you maybe think that the babies will be cute but no – the babies are tadpoles and tadpoles are just scary especially the ones that live in the birdbath at my parents house – I tried emptying it once and someone must have told them I was coming because every time I went near it the big fat frogs would jump at me and stick to my pants and—" she paused for breath. The Scoobies, plus Spike, stared at her in in stunned silence. She smiled sheepishly. "Yeah. Frogs are scary."  
  
Four sets of eyes then swiveled from her to look at the vampire. He glared. "Fine, I was dreaming about frogs. What of it?"  
  
"You dream of frogs, I dream of frogs. Kinda uncommon, isn't it? We just got attacked by some ugly demony thing that looks like those things behind the washer in Xander's old basement, we conk out…" Willow answers, and then pauses. "Dream transference?"  
  
Anya nodded. "It looks like it. I once cursed an unfaithful merchant in Venice during the fifteenth century by transferring the dreams of his wife onto him. She wanted to kill him. He wet the bed every night. It was great."  
  
"Hmm." Willow joined Buffy in her pacing. They walked in figure eights around the back of the shop.  
  
"There's one thing missing, though. The dream transference isn't one- way. The people involved really just switch dreams. That's what happened to the woman in Venice, and her husband was actually dreaming about his little trollop. She ended up killing him."  
  
Xander gulped loudly. Anya turned and gave him a radiant smile, one that Xander couldn't help but respond to. For an ex-evil Vengeance Demon, his girl was absolutely gorgeous. The fact that she enjoyed male suffering was really only a minor drawback. "That's too bad, hon. So that means that Willow should be having…ick."  
  
"Spike's dreams. Huh." Buffy halted her pacing and looked nervous for a moment. "Well, how about it, Willow?"  
  
Alone. Burning. Desolation. Helpless. Alone. "Yeah," she said softly. "I think so."  
  
Spike turned sharply to look at her. Fuck. What had he dreamt of? He was willing to bet it wasn't something as harmless as frogs. He didn't want her seeing any that. "Right - let's stop this, then," he demanded.  
  
"According to this, dream transference is a spell – not really something your average Joe Demon can cause," Xander said, inspecting the his book.  
  
"Unless this was some sort of vengeance demon…Willow, do you have any scorned lovers that would want to cause you pain?"  
  
Willow blushed up to her hairline. "Anya! No!"  
  
"What? It's possible."  
  
"And what kind of vengeance could be achieved by making Willow and Spike share dreams?" Buffy asked practically. They fell silent, thinking.  
  
"Sound like our best bet is figuring out what's the what with that demon that looks like those things that lived behind the washer in my—"  
  
"Oh, for the love of Satan, we know what the sodding thing looked like already!" Spike yelled.  
  
"Oh. Right." Xander fell silent, and they all sat around, staring at the table.  
  
"What about a location spell? We could track…" Dawn trailed off as her sister glared at her. "Oh yeah. Um….never mind."  
  
Willow closed her eyes and sighed. "I wish I could. But that's probably not the best idea, huh?"  
  
"Don't fret, Will," Spike said, earning surprised looks from everyone but the redhead he addressed. "We'll find it. There's always more than one way to skin a cat, after all."  
  
She quirked a grin at him. "You have such a way with words."  
  
"What can I say? It's a gift."  
  
Xander observed the whole vaguely flirty exchange curiously.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
There were a few small but crucial Truths that Arnold Sherliton had over- looked while composing his plot for Sunnydale domination. The first and most famous being: never go up against the slayer's friends when the slayer is alive. But no less important is this: Good plans for domination almost always go bad. It's a relatively simple concept, proved time and time again throughout history. This has a great deal to do with the quality of hired help Evil Masterminds are willing to settle for. However, in this particular case, it was doomed to fail from the beginning.  
  
The reason was simple. Sid - a supremely powerful being who had sunken cities beneath the waves for merely displeasing him – was back from vacation. He had returned from his holiday in the Bahamas to find year-old coffee on the warmer and a dense backlog of cases on his desk at the corporate offices of The Powers That Be. And one of those cases – his pet case, actually – was in shambles.  
  
The Almighty Sid was mightily pissed.  
  
"This is horrifying!" he bellowed to his underlings that Tuesday in one of the conference rooms. "How on Earth did you People let things slide so badly?!" the iridescent Being shouted, throwing a thick report onto the table in front of him. He turned towards the other occupants of the room. "I went on vacation for three years. Just three years! And I get back here and the plan that was drafted by Fate and approved by the Powers That Be has been thrown completely out the window!" He paused for dramatic effect. "Well? What have you got to say for yourselves?"  
  
A deceptively young-looking girl answered for her colleagues. "It was the contractor we hired – what was his name?" she wondered.  
  
"Dmitri," a gray mist seated at the end of the table supplied.  
  
"Right. Dmitri. He went postal on us when we wouldn't give him a promotion. Starting making bad matches right and left. First it was the vampire Harmony, then it was the slayer Buffy."  
  
Sid paced back and forth, his skin switching from metallic purple to blue to green and back again as he thought.  
  
"And what of this girl, Tara? Is she the fault of Dmitri as well?"  
  
The little girl looked sheepish. "Well, actually – she's one of mine. After Harmony came into the picture, I thought I could make Spike a bit jealous by increasing her role in the scenario. It worked for a while…but then that irritating little Russian screwed up again."  
  
The Beings at the conference table watched apprehensively as their supervisor mulled this information over. Then he turned a lovely swirling pink color and looked up. "So what we have are two broken-hearted humans—" Somebody coughed, and Sid amended his statement. "One broken- hearted human, one broken-hearted demon…a piddling little upstart attempting to take over the Hellmouth, and three weeks to get this plan back on track before we become the focus of a PTB investigation…is that right?"  
  
One by one the Beings around the table nodded. Put like that, it just sounded…bad.  
  
"Do want me to call Cupid in on this one? It'll be a quick fix, and we can make things permanent later," the gray mist suggested. Sid shook his head.  
  
"Nah – keep everything in this office. Understand? This case is now confidential. And maybe," he added, turning toward the large television monitors that made up one wall of the conference room. The Beings in the room watched as their clients – Willow the witch and "Spike" the vampire, stood up from a table and moved towards the door. The witch seemed to still be a bit dizzy from her encounter with the big black bug, and swayed on her feet, rubbing her forehead. The vampire watched her closely for a minute, and then guided her towards the door with a feather-light hand on the small of her back. "Maybe things will be easier than we think."  
  
His underlings all nodded and began to gather their files, shuffling towards the door. Sid's second-in-command remained behind, smiling beatifically at the TV monitors that had just switched over to a picture of a suspiciously non-descript man. "And I'll take over the supervision of this Arnold Sherliton creature, shall I?" She asked.  
  
Sid smiled. "Have fun."  
  
  
  
TBC..  
  
  
  
What do you think? Too weird? Should I stop while I'm behind 


	4. Redheads From Heaven...

Sherliton's Army 4/?  
  
By Len (lendolyn@y...)  
  
Spoilers: `Gone' – it pretty much branches off into AU at that point.  
  
Teaser: Willow and Spike deal with the side-effects of their run-in  
  
with Bub (Big Ugly Bug), and Sid has a brief cameo in which he tosses  
  
our heroine around a little. But never fear - no Willows (or  
  
Spikes!) were harmed in the making of this fic.  
  
Rating: R – Spike and his dirty mouth!  
  
Note: I can't write drama or angst to save my life. This is the  
  
result of me attempting to keep my head from exploding in the pre-  
  
finals season. Clichés abound, Evil Critters are borrowed from  
  
Sigourney Weaver movies, plot weaves like a drunken man, names are  
  
silly…you know, the usual. Have fun.  
  
Archive: My site – Blood Magic:  
  
( http://www.geocities.com/voodoo_bloodmagic/enter.html ), Breathe,  
  
FF.net, NHA, WLS - and anyone else who wants it. Just let me know so  
  
I can visit. Or gloat. Same diff.  
  
More Notes: Not one of my better chapters, granted, but hopefully it  
  
will be fun to read. Just don't read too carefully. (:  
  
Also: WILL FIC FOR FEEDBACK!!!  
  
For: sinecure. You asked for it. ;)  
  
  
  
Chapter 4  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
Willow gingerly removed her shirt and walked to the bathroom in  
  
her jeans and bra, almost dreading what she would see in the mirror.  
  
She looked at her reflection and cringed. The creature that looked  
  
like those things that lived…well, you know – had really done a  
  
number on her ribs. They didn't appear to be broken, but the red  
  
footprint was rapidly transforming into a rather startling shade of  
  
purple.  
  
  
  
She sighed. If this had happened a couple months ago, she would  
  
have simply spelled away the damage. Now it looked like she would  
  
just have to heal the old-fashioned way.  
  
  
  
"This sucks," she decided, grumbling and prodding the area with a  
  
careful finger. Her head wasn't feeling to hot either – there was a  
  
trickle of dried blood running down one side of her forehead from her  
  
abrupt nose-dive into the street, and a lump from where that Big Ugly  
  
Bug had cracked her and Spike together like they were a couple of  
  
eggs and it was the Iron Chef.  
  
  
  
Willow dug around in her well-equipped medicine cabinet and  
  
swallowed a couple of Aspirin dry. She hoped she didn't have a  
  
concussion of some sort – the ringing in her head hadn't gone away  
  
and was showing no signs of lessening. She sighed, and stripped off  
  
her blood-soaked jeans to climb in the shower. The near-scalding  
  
water ran down her body and washed away the crusted blood, creating  
  
pink rivulets of liquid. Willow watched it in fascination before  
  
realizing that Spike must've lost a heck of a lot more blood than  
  
she'd thought – because none of that blood running down the drain was  
  
hers. She hoped he was all right. He'd seemed a little dazed when  
  
they'd left the shop, like his chip was acting up. Except there  
  
hadn't been anything to set it off…  
  
  
  
She squirted out a measure of shampoo into her palm. `Wash that  
  
Big Ugly Bug right out of your hair!' she thought irreverently,  
  
scrubbing hard. Big ugly bug, big ugly bug…  
  
  
  
Willow knew she had seen that Creature before, but she couldn't  
  
remember where. It was really starting to bother her. Maybe that  
  
crack on the noggin had knocked a few brain cells loose. It was so  
  
familiar, practically on the tip of her tongue…  
  
  
  
She rinsed that last of the soap from her hair and body before  
  
stepping out onto the shower mat and drying off. Maybe she would  
  
stop by Spike's new place and find out what his impressions of that  
  
Thing had been. After all, he'd gotten a few good knocks in on it,  
  
too.  
  
  
  
Her nightshirt hung on a hook on the bathroom door, and she  
  
slipped gratefully into the soft, worn cotton.  
  
  
  
And out of nowhere came the memory of his touch. Just the  
  
faintest whisper of fingers across her face, so soft it made her  
  
ache. Moving across her lips, leaving them tingling in the cool wake  
  
of his caress. The air between them seemed to hum with energy, and  
  
she leaned towards him, closing her eyes…  
  
  
  
Blinking, Willow snapped out of her daydream at about the same  
  
time she over-balanced and fell over. `Definitely a few loose brain  
  
cells rattling around,' she decided, and climbed into bed. `Like  
  
that ever has or ever *will* happen…'  
  
  
  
All the same, she couldn't stop a wistful smile from crossing her  
  
lips as she drifted off to sleep.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
Across town, Spike was in Hell. It wasn't the traditional  
  
Victorian version of Hell – all flames and brimstone, but one that  
  
was sufficiently tortuous to satisfy all the basic requirements.  
  
  
  
For one thing, he felt like he'd been thrown off a tall tower,  
  
several times. And he was in a position to know exactly what *that*  
  
felt like. There wasn't a part of him that didn't hurt. If  
  
anything, the ringing in his head had gotten worse since he'd parted  
  
company with the rest of the gang, and the gash on his side was  
  
showing no signs of healing. But he figured that both could have  
  
quite a bit to do with the fact that he couldn't get to the fridge  
  
and his blood. Or to a phone.  
  
  
  
Just the thought of calling one of the Scoobies to tell them that  
  
he had fallen and couldn't get up was enough to make him shiver in  
  
horror. The only one of the whole lot he could imagine himself  
  
asking for help was Will, and after their run-in with that black,  
  
scaly demon, she wasn't in top shape either. She'd come, but she  
  
needed her rest now.  
  
  
  
He could call the slayer – and she would help. But he knew how  
  
that scenario would end. She'd haul him to his feet, grimacing at  
  
how repulsive his physical proximity to her was, and then watch him  
  
drink his blood, keeping a long, angsty silence. Then one of them  
  
would start and argument and she'd storm out of this apartment with  
  
some cutting final remark…  
  
  
  
Nah. He wasn't disillusioned at all, was he? Spike smirked self-  
  
depreciatingly to himself from his position on the floor of the  
  
living room. That's all he and Buffy had ever been – tragic,  
  
pointless, full of pain. Well, he was fed up with brooding and  
  
stalking and hurting. He wanted to have a bit of fun – like before  
  
the days of the chip. Laughter was good for anyone – even demons –  
  
and he intended to find some.  
  
  
  
Just as soon as he got off the floor.  
  
  
  
Buffy didn't know where his new apartment was, anyway. The  
  
thought cheered him somewhat.  
  
  
  
Bloody Hell…he was so tired… But he had nice carpet – that had to  
  
be worth something. It was nice and squishy. Spike gave up trying  
  
to get up and just laid his head down on it. It was too much. Just  
  
too much. Why couldn't the Powers That Be just give him a couple  
  
days of rest? He was sick to death…well, really tired, anyway, of  
  
being constantly bruised or fighting…. Was it too much to ask for  
  
just a few minutes to recover? Or even better, someone to fuss over  
  
him a little bit? Not long, just an hour or so…  
  
  
  
And somehow, in the midst of his pain-induced fog, he wasn't  
  
terribly surprised when Willow fell from the ceiling and landed on  
  
the lovely carpet next to him.  
  
  
  
Thud.  
  
  
  
"Whaa…?" The half-asleep and startled redhead muttered, rolling  
  
over and into Spike's prostrate form. He flinched in pain, but  
  
couldn't get his mouth to form the trite but useful, `Ow'.  
  
  
  
Willow blinked against the lamplight in the apartment, completely  
  
disoriented. She quickly replayed the evening's events in her mind.  
  
Shower…yup. Teeth…whoops. Bed….yup. Sleep…check. Wake up in  
  
strange room…huh. Maybe the side-effects of her run in with the Big  
  
Ugly Bug (henceforth referred to as BUB due to time restraints) were  
  
more numerous than she had originally believed. She laid there  
  
pondering the idea as gradually the smell of cigarette smoke and  
  
leather filled her senses. She knew that combination. "Spike?" she  
  
croaked. "What the hell am I doing here?"  
  
  
  
He rolled his eyes towards her, trying to convey a suitably  
  
sarcastic remark. It took most of his remaining energy to tilt an  
  
eyebrow.  
  
  
  
Willow sat up slowly. The ringing in her head had lessened, but  
  
falling from…wherever it was…hadn't helped her poor ribs any. She  
  
opened her mouth to ask her blond, fangy friend what was going on but  
  
stopped as she got a good look at his appearance. Her eyes  
  
widened. "Eep!" she squeaked. "Blood! Lots of blood. And you look  
  
bad! Let me just get—" and she dashed out of the living room.  
  
  
  
Spike listened to her putter around in the kitchen and relaxed  
  
for the first time in a week. Willow was there now. Things would be  
  
fine because she wasn't the type to settle for anything less.  
  
  
  
And his last conscious thought before he passed out was that  
  
people didn't have nearly enough appreciation for wool-blend  
  
carpeting.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
Meanwhile, back at the corporate offices of The Powers That Be,  
  
the Almighty Sid was very pleased. All the two Beings had required  
  
to get things back on track was a tiny push. For P%k&6's sake, Sid  
  
hadn't even needed to send them any provocative images – they were  
  
doing it all on their own. He had to commend Willow the witch's  
  
imagination – even he couldn't have dreamed up something so subtle.  
  
  
  
He rubbed his hands together in glee and watched the scene  
  
presently playing out before him. Willow the witch had returned from  
  
the kitchen with a mug of blood and some rags. She trotted back to  
  
the vampire, looking worried. Sid smiled. "Ah yes, I'm back in the  
  
saddle again," he sang, congratulating himself. Spike the vampire  
  
wanted some babying, did he? Well, fortunately for him, that fit  
  
into Sid's plans very nicely.  
  
  
  
After a few more minutes of Willow/Spike TV he changed the  
  
channel, curious about what his second-in-command was up to in  
  
regards to that annoying little gnat, Sherliton.  
  
  
  
A dark warehouse came into view, and Sid rolled his  
  
eyes. "Thousands of years of Evil Masterminds, and the best they  
  
ever seem to do for a Secret Lair is a warehouse. Idiots!"  
  
  
  
His annoyed expression softened as he watched No. 2 skip her  
  
little Girl Scout-ish way in through the door. Oh, this would be  
  
*good*.  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC...  
  
  
  
Review! Please! 


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